


Our World Alone

by juniperri



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Betrayal, Denial, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Redemption, Romance, Slow Burn, i'm too impatient to wait for catra's redemption arc so i'm doing it myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2020-11-27 22:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20955710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperri/pseuds/juniperri
Summary: Infiltrate Bright Moon. Join the Rebellion. Gain the trust of the princesses, then destroy them from within.The mission given to Catra is a straight-forward one. But as her false friendship with Adora grows increasingly complex, the game in which they are entangled becomes more difficult than she could ever have imagined.





	1. mission start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic takes place sometime DURING SEASON 2. I had already started writing when season 3 came out! hopefully you can still enjoy ;)

_The lights dimming._  
  
_The crowd hushing._  
  
_Glimmers of red and pink and violet setting fire to the icicles around them._  
  
_The music came up, and there was Adora._  
  
_Her long red dress gathered about her legs, the silver trim sparkling. Her shoulders were bare, her slender arm outstretched. Her blue eyes — always the clearest part about her — were smiling and unafraid._  
  
_Just like every time before, the partygoers and the princesses around them faded away, and Catra laced her hand through Adora’s. Their hands had always fit together so naturally._  
  
_There was no plan. No mission. No task at hand. There was only Adora._  
  
_And for once, there was nothing keeping them apart but themselves._  
  
_They circled one another. Adora never spoke, and Catra could think of nothing to say. If they spoke, perhaps, the lie would unravel. So they only stared, the eye contact keeping them aloft and propelling them effortlessly through the dance, as if they had performed it a thousand times before. A smile, quick and lovely, played across Adora’s lips._  
  
_The music swelled, and Adora’s grip, previously feather-light, turned decisively strong. She tugged Catra closer. The sudden proximity was electrifying, and Catra’s breath caught in her throat as Adora’s hand withdrew from her own and moved slowly to Catra’s face._  
  
_She shivered as Adora tucked a lock of hair unnecessarily behind Catra’s ear, neither of them breathing._  
  
_A part of her knew, then, that it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real because Adora would never look at Catra with so much trust, would never wrap her arms around Catra’s neck . . ._  
  
_And Catra would never hold still, would never allow her guard to fall so completely, could never so thoroughly defeat the inclination to wrench away . . ._  
  
_But her eyes drifted to Adora’s lips, parting slightly in an easy smile, and she shoved down deep the part of her that knew because it felt so wonderful to forget. If she let it go on just a little while longer, she knew what would happen next._  
  
_“Catra,” said Adora softly as Catra’s arms fell to Adora’s waist. The two of them slowed to a sway, then stopped moving altogether. Catra was held captive by Adora’s gaze, afraid to speak, afraid to look away. And when Adora opened her mouth again, Catra knew what she would say before she ever spoke:_  
  
_“I love you.”_  
  
_The words hovered in the air, wrapped themselves around Catra, and squeezed so tightly that she barely registered it when Adora leaned in and kissed her._  
  
_The room around them melted away and Adora pressed her against a wall that she couldn’t see, grabbing fistfuls of Catra’s hair._  
  
_And when Catra’s arms lifted of their own accord to the bare skin on Adora’s back, when her lips parted as if they had done this before, when Adora pulled back for a moment and looked at her with so much affection and aching beauty — flushed cheeks, a few strands of blonde hair falling loosely into her eyes —_  
  
_There was no more ignoring that none of it was real._  
  
_There was something in Catra’s hand. It was frigid to the touch, and it filled her with an untoward dread._  
  
_She knew what it was._  
  
_“Catra?” said Adora again, her hand reaching up to cup Catra’s face. There was so much tenderness in the gesture that Catra began to tremble. She pressed herself back against the wall as if to escape._  
  
_But there was no escaping from Adora, who refused to melt away like the rest of the room, who stayed there, who wouldn’t look away, wouldn’t go away . . ._  
  
_Adora leaned forward to kiss Catra again, but Catra turned her head sharply, looking at the ceiling and willing the vision to disappear. This was wrong. The ice in her hand was spreading up her arm, creeping across her shoulder, inching toward her chest. It was wrong in the way that nightmares are — slightly off, a normal situation turned evil. A wave of red light rose steadily around them, and Catra closed her eyes and willed Adora to disappear, but she never would. She was always there. She was always so good and pure and perfect and forgiving, and under her gaze Catra was exposed, all her flaws laid bare._  
  
_She wanted Adora to leave. But Adora would never, ever, ever leave Catra alone —_  
  
_“Catra? Are you okay?”_  
  
_Until she did._  
  
_Catra’s vision came into brutal focus as she raised her hand and plunged the dagger into Adora’s heart._

Catra’s eyes snapped open, and she laid there for a moment gathering her bearings, staring at the cot above her. Its metal ridges and featureless flatness soothed her. She knew where she was now, and she was back in control.  
  
The dreams had been getting more frequent.  
  
Ever since Adora left the Fright Zone, Catra had been awoken by dreams of her. Sometimes, they were in the Fright Zone together, training and working as they used to. What used to be mundane now seemed so distant from reality. Sometimes, they were fighting — whether as sparring partners or as true enemies, it made little difference; always there was the flashing steel, the self-assured smirks, the moments of heated contact. Often they were kissing. And just as often, the dreams ended in . . .  
  
“Hey, Catra. Are you awake?”  
  
Catra flinched, sitting up quickly at the sound of Scorpia’s voice. “Of course I’m awake. Why wouldn’t I be awake?”  
  
There was no way Scorpia or anyone else knew about the dreams, she told herself, angry at the way her heart had jumped and her face had reddened. It didn’t matter, anyway. Dreams were stupid and meant nothing.  
  
After all, in her waking hours, she felt nothing for Adora but hatred — hatred, and eagerness to have the She-Ra problem over and done with, one way or another.  
  
“Did you hear me, Catra?”  
  
“What?” Scorpia was hovering in the doorway to Catra’s room — a small, clinical space. It had little more in the way of amenities than the larger barracks, but it could offer one thing, rare in the Fright Zone: privacy. A perk of being Force Captain.  
  
There was a nervous smile on Scorpia’s face as she took in the room, her eyes flicking to Catra as if hoping to be invited in. _As if._  
  
“I said that Hordak asked to see you right away. Us, actually. He has new orders for our whole squadron.”  
  
This caught Catra’s attention. “New orders?” she said suspiciously. “Are you sure you heard correctly? Hordak never wants to speak with us.”  
  
Scorpia was already dressed in her uniform, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot, her smile widening a bit. “I’m sure! Isn’t this exciting, Catra? This could mean something big for you!”  
  
Catra hesitated for a moment, considering the possibilities. She was all too aware that her performance as of late had been lacking in Hordak’s eyes. In order to keep his trust, she needed a big success, and she needed it fast.  
  
So if Hordak really did have a mission for her, if he really was calling her in so early in the morning with new orders and not merely a lecture or punishment . . . it meant that most likely, he had some sort of test in mind.  
  
A test to prove her aptitude. And if she failed, it was likely that she would lose the position of Force Captain.  
  
Or worse.  
  
“Alright,” said Catra indifferently. “I’ll get ready.” She waved her hand in dismissal.  
  
“Great!” Scorpia took a few unwanted steps forward, bending down slightly to avoid bumping her head on the low metal ceiling. “I’ll just wait here for you, and —“  
  
“I can walk by myself,” said Catra, shooting Scorpia a practiced glare. “Get out of my room now.”  
  
“Oh — right — sorry!” Scorpia retreated just as quickly, nearly tripping over her overlarge feet in her eagerness to obey orders. “I’ll — see you there, then! Bye!”  
  
Catra rolled her eyes as Scorpia vanished around the corner. “Ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath, reaching for her uniform. A meeting with Hordak was always a serious matter, especially this one, coming at such a critical time in the war. Currently underway was a mission which involved targeting the Whispering Woods with increasingly powerful waves of robots, distracting and weakening the princesses until the day the Horde would send its ground troops to attack Everlight, an important weapons supply town for the rebels. Perhaps it was about that. But she already had it under control; there was nothing to discuss . . . Catra paused for a moment, straightening the collar of her uniform.  
  
In spite of herself, she wondered what Adora was doing, and what she was thinking about.  
  
Did she ever have dreams of Catra?

Fifteen minutes later, Catra walked briskly into Hordak’s sanctum. Her mind was clear, emptied of unwanted thoughts. Her uniform was newly pressed, her Force Captain pin displayed proudly on her chest, and she held her chin high. It all started with a strong impression . . .  
  
“Force Captain Catra. You certainly took your time, didn’t you?”  
  
Catra stopped short, bit back the swarm of hateful retorts she could have made, and fell into a bow. Around her, Scorpia, Lonnie, Rogelio, and Kyle were already standing at attention, their expressions eager, skeptical, curious, and terrified, respectively.  
  
So much for the strong impression.  
  
“I apologize, Lord Hordak,” she said smoothly, still staring at the ground. “I came as soon as I could.”  
  
“I see,” said Hordak, and she straightened up. Shoulders down and back. Look calm and controlled — no, not that calm and controlled, more humble — yes. She kept her gaze trained steadily to the front as Hordak approached her slowly. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw him looking down at her, his red eyes scanning her face as if searching for weaknesses to exploit, his nose wrinkled in permanent disapproval.  
  
She had always hated this room. The high ceilings and twisting wires and flashing lights all made her antsy. She suspected Hordak had designed it specifically to take those who intruded into his sanctum — or had the misfortune of being invited into it — off guard, to make them uncomfortable right away.  
  
“As you may have heard,” said Hordak at last, “I have a new mission for you. I have designed it with your strengths — or at least, your strengths as you have advertised them to me — in mind.”  
  
“I helped, too!” Entrapta burst forth from behind a computer bank, a screwdriver clenched in the coils of her hair. Catra growled under her breath. The way Hordak gave Entrapta free reign in his sanctum, the way she moved about it with so little regard for Hordak’s superior position — it had always rubbed her the wrong way. Hordak tilted his head as Entrapta sprang forth to stand beside him, a pair of small, rectangular contraptions clutched in her hands.  
  
“Feast your eyes,” said Entrapta in her grating voice, “on the Immensely Powerful Harbinger Of commuNication Exchange 10,000! iPhone 10, for short.”  
  
She held one of them out to Catra, and at Hordak’s nod of permission, she took it. Catra rotated it a few times in her hands, frowning. The back was metal, and the front was inset with a screen about the size of her palm. “What does it do?”  
  
“It can communicate across long distances!” Entrapta tapped the screen on her own device three times and it lit up with a tiny, pixelated keyboard and a blank white screen above it. “They’re wired to send messages between each other! Watch —“  
  
With an ungraceful leap and a muffled crashing sound as a box overturned itself, Entrapta hurled herself back behind the computer bank.  
  
Catra glanced around at the other members of her squadron, who looked just as confused as she did. She cleared her throat impatiently, feeling foolish standing before Hordak with the blank screen in her hands. “Lord Hordak,” she said, “with all due respect, what does this science experiment have to do with —“  
  
A soft ping emanated from the phone. Catra looked down.  
  
On the screen was displayed, in clear black capital letters, the words:  
  
**HELLO CATRA! HOW ARE YOU TODAY?**  
  
“Wow!” said Scorpia, who had been inching subtly closer. “That’s so neat! Say something back, Catra!”  
  
Catra shot Scorpia another glare, jerking her head at Hordak as if to say “Shut up and be professional for once,” before turning back to the screen. Gingerly, she typed out a response:  
**WHY DO YOU CARE?**  
  
“Isn’t it amazing?” Entrapta yelled, throwing herself back over the computers and scampering toward them again. “It can communicate across any distance! Anywhere in Etheria, in fact! And it’s powered by First One’s tech, so there’s never a need to recharge it! With this —“  
  
“Thank you, Entrapta, for the demonstration,” said Hordak, cutting her off. He turned back to Catra, who was studying the device in her hands, unable to hide her pleasure. Already, her mind was racing with ideas for how the device could be used — to communicate between squadrons, to facilitate long-distance attacks . . .  
  
“On to your mission, Force Captain.” Catra looked up, and Hordak turned and strode away from her, hands folded behind his back, as if he was already contemplating what he would do after the meeting was over. Around her, Catra’s squadron leaned forward with baited breath, and Catra felt her heartbeat speed up, felt her ears prick with anticipation.  
  
Finally, finally, this was her chance to solidify her power within the Horde.  
  
“Your mission,” said Hordak, “is to hand yourself over to the princesses.”  
  
The words took a moment to register.  
  
“What?” Catra burst out, at the same time as Scorpia said “That’s way too dangerous for Catra, Lord Hordak!”, Lonnie gave a snort of incredulous laughter, and Kyle let out a horrified whimper.  
  
There was a moment of silence in which Hordak halted, his back to them, and it dawned on the party gradually that he was absolutely serious.  
  
“Let me repeat myself,” said Hordak, in the deadly calm voice that Catra had come to know so well. “You are to hand yourself over to the princesses. You are to live among them and earn their trust, all whilst delivering vital intel to the Fright Zone via your iPhone 10. You can return to the Fright Zone only after your information proves useful enough for us to score a decisive victory against the Rebellion. Do you understand?”  
  
“I . . .”  
  
Catra licked her lips. For a moment, she could think of nothing to say.  
  
And then, the full weight of what he was asking crashed down on her, and she took a furious step forward. “Lord Hordak,” she said heatedly, “I can serve the Horde just as well from within our own ranks. This mission — it doesn’t make any sense. The princesses aren’t going to trust me, or tell me anything. I don’t want to live with our enemy!”  
  
“Are you telling me,” said Hordak, “that you are incapable of carrying out this mission successfully?” His words were quiet, but they filled up the room, sending chills down everyone’s spines.  
  
“No, I . . . that’s not what I’m saying.” Catra looked at the floor, embarrassed by her own frustration. Why was it that these orders were causing her so much panic?  
  
Well, she had an idea of why. And whatever she did, she couldn’t let that on. “Of course I can do this mission. I’m just not sure if it’s the most efficient use of our time. What about the attack on Everlight?”  
  
“Are you doubting me, Force Captain?” Hordak turned around sharply, and Catra shrank back, unable to stop herself from looking away. “You overstep yourself. Because of your shared history with Adora, I am confident in your ability to gain the princesses’s trust. If they trust you, they will tell you things. We need information, Force Captain. Others can handle petty expeditions like the attack on Everlight.” His hand drifted to the oxygen lever, and Catra flinched again. “Or are you saying that you can do my job better than I can?”  
  
There was a long, charged pause as Hordak’s fingers tightened around the lever. Catra closed her eyes, steadied her breathing.  
  
She had been right. This was a test of her aptitude.  
  
It was possible, she realized, that Hordak suspected. That he had a way of getting in her head, of seeing her dreams, of sensing her suppressed desires.  
  
If that was true, then she couldn’t risk arguing any more than she already had.  
  
There was no choice.  
  
Catra sank into a bow again. “I will carry out the orders, Lord Hordak.”  
  
Around her, a release of breath from her squadron members. Lord Hordak smirked. “I am glad to hear it. Send a message to the princesses requesting a meeting. And Force Captain . . .  
  
“I shouldn’t need to tell you that should you fail your mission, nothing good will befall you or the members of your pathetic squadron. Do I make my meaning clear?”  
  
Around her, Catra was aware of Scorpia, Lonnie, Rogelio, and Kyle staring at her, their faces draining of color. So their fates were at stake, too. Is that why he had brought them all here, to put their lives on the line and force her to take in their reactions?  
  
Did he really think she cared enough about them for it to get to her?  
  
Whatever. Regardless, there was nothing to be worried about.  
  
“Yes, Lord Hordak,” Catra said, her lips curving into a smile. “I won’t let you down.”  
  
“Very well. You are dismissed.”  
  
Nothing to worry about at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've made it this far, thanks so much! this is my first fic ever, so any feedback you have would be great! I already have a good amount pre-written, so I'll be doing weekly Tuesday updates.  
let's keep the catradora fic burning through NOVEMBER 5TH!


	2. message received

It was evening when Adora received the message.

It had been a long day spent in the field with Glimmer, Bow, Mermista, Perfuma, and Frosta, battling the tides of bots that threatened constantly to overtake the Whispering Woods. When at last there was a break in the fighting, the princesses had deployed some ground troops to handle stragglers while they returned to the castle, hungry and worn down.

The cooks had, as usual, prepared a delicious table of food for them, but despite the stress of the day — or perhaps because of it — Adora was hardly in the mood to eat. She picked at the roasted vegetables on her plate glumly, longing for the comfort and solitude of her bed. Around her, the other princesses seemed similarly disheartened, and conversation had been minimal. Even Perfuma had little in the way of encouragement to offer.

“We need a new strategy,” said Glimmer suddenly, breaking into the silence. “We can’t go on like this.”

Glimmer had barely eaten anything either, and she was staring at her plate with such frustration it was as if the chicken had personally wronged her. “It’s like, we’re keeping the Horde at bay, but we aren’t strong enough to turn the tide!”

“Hey, Glimmer,” said Bow, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder. “We’re doing the best we can. The Horde has to run out of robots eventually, right?”

“But what if they _don’t!” _Glimmer slammed her hands down on the table. “I feel so _useless!_Like, what good is the Princess Alliance if all we can do is maintain the status quo? And after Entrapta turned against us, it’s like . . . I don’t know. What are we even doing?”

“She has a point,” said Mermista through a mouthful of boiled carrots. She was slouched over in her chair, chin propped up lazily on a hand. “Gotta say, when I signed up for this thing, I thought it would be a lot more . . . you know. Productive.”

“I think we’re all just exhausted,” said Bow, smiling weakly. “We’ll feel better in the morning. We can talk about it then . . .”

“No, Glimmer is right.” All eyes turned to Adora, who was staring gravely at the dishes in the table’s center, her thoughts written clearly across her face_. _“It wasn’t enough to regrow the woods — the Horde just keeps trying to destroy it again. All we’re doing is going back and forth, battling, training, battling some more. We need something . . .”

“New,” Glimmer finished. 

At that moment, there was a knock at the dining room door. 

Glimmer sighed, slouching back in her chair again. “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal a member of the royal guard, who bowed in a businesslike way before straightening to attention. “Princesses,” she said respectfully.

In her hands was a small, round robot. Unmistakably Horde tech. It looked to be dead, its legs crumpled up beneath it. Adora had never seen such a small and pathetic Horde bot before.

“I apologize for the intrusion at mealtime,” said the guard. “We intercepted this bot during patrol in the Whispering Woods.” She came forth and placed it gingerly on the table between Perfuma and Bow. Perfuma recoiled away from it, but Bow leaned forward, studying the cracked screens and dented wiring with cautious interest. “It was unarmed, and carried a handwritten message. We sent word of the message back to the castle and received orders to relay it directly to you. The nature of it is rather . . . unconventional.”

There was a slight pause as the guard fished in her coat pocket and withdrew a folded piece of parchment paper. She hesitated just long enough for something to seem amiss, scanning the faces of the princesses around the table — and then, decisively, she stepped past Bow and Glimmer to hand the paper to Adora.

Adora frowned, wondering what message could possibly be meant for her specifically.

Then she unfolded the paper, and understood immediately.

Catra.

_Princesses of Bright Moon,_

_ It is I, Catra. I know we have had our differences in the past. Sorry about all that. I’m writing to tell you that I’ve had a change of heart. I see the error of my ways and I want to join the Rebellion. _

_ I know it might be hard to trust me. I don’t think I can convince you with a letter alone. So come meet me at the edge of the Whispering Woods tomorrow night, at dusk. I will be alone and unarmed. You can bring whoever you want. I just want to talk._

_ Hey Adora, if you’re reading this, you were right all along, huh? And you’re the one who asked me to join the Rebellion, so look — here I am, doing what you say, like the good old days. _

_ Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow. All of you._

_ Catra_

Adora read the letter in seconds, skimming for meaning, and then, struggling to process, read it again. She felt her heart jolt as she read the words in Catra’s voice: _I want to join the Rebellion. _

What . . . what was she playing at?

“Adora?” Glimmer’s voice jolted her back to reality, and she looked up almost defensively, clutching the letter to her. “Are you gonna read it to us, or are we all just gonna sit here and stare at you?”

“I . . . sorry.” Unsure how to explain the contents of the letter and not trusting her voice to read it aloud, Adora passed the letter to Glimmer, who held it between herself and Bow. She heard them gasp as they read the letter; she registered Frosta standing up impatiently and running around the table to peer between them. The guard studied Adora curiously, then bowed again and left the room, shutting the door quietly on her way out.

There was absolutely no way that this wasn’t a trap. It was definitely Catra’s handwriting — she’d recognize that careless scrawl anywhere — but there was no way she had _actually _had such a dramatic change of heart. Catra, recognize the error of her ways? When had Catra _ever _recognized the error of her ways?

Catra loved tricks, and manipulation, and betrayal. If they went to her meeting, dozens of Horde soldiers would be hiding in the bushes to accost them as soon as they let their guard down — assuming Catra showed up at all. Alone and unarmed? As if. It wasn’t even a _subtle_ trap!

And yet . . . 

The word _Adora, _written by Catra, appeared unbidden in her mind’s eye, and Adora blinked hard a few times to ward it away. _If _Catra ever had a change of heart . . . isn’t this what she would do? Send a message, arrange a private meeting? What else _could _she do? If she showed up in Bright Moon without warning, she would be attacked, and rightly so. And if she really _was _trying to set a trap . . . wouldn’t she be a little more subtle than this?

It was very, very, very unlikely that Catra was telling the truth. But it wasn’t _impossible. _And if she was telling the truth — _if _she was — then Adora owed it to her to give her a chance.

Imagine it. Catra, on the side of the Rebellion . . .

“Adora.” Glimmer snapped her fingers. “Are you listening? You’re not thinking of going to this meeting, are you?”

“Huh?” Adora rubbed her eyes. By this time, Mermista and Perfuma had read the letter as well, and they were all staring at her, waiting for her reaction. “Um. Well . . .”

“It’s definitely a trap,” said Mermista. “Like, definitely a trap.”

“I have to admit I agree with Mermista,” said Bow doubtfully. “That letter has ‘trap’ written all over it.”

“Who is this _Catra _person, anyway?” Frosta looked a bit let down by the letter. “Why is she so important?”

Glimmer cut in before Adora could say anything. “She’s a very, _very _dangerous Horde soldier. She captured me and had me tortured. We can’t trust her.”

“Oh, the cat girl from Princess Prom?” Frosta grinned. “I dunno. I thought she was cool.”

_“Frosta!”_

“What Glimmer is _trying_ to say,” said Adora, “is that Catra is always planning something. She’s smart, and determined, and wouldn’t think twice about lying to get what she wants.”

“Great,” said Glimmer, pushing back her chair and standing up. “Glad we’re all in agreement. I’m going to take this robot to the garbage, so —“

_“But,” _Adora continued, reaching out and picking up the letter again, “I know her the best of anyone here. And I know that she isn’t evil.”

Glimmer snorted. “Not evil? Adora, are you —“

Bow cast her a warning glance, and Glimmer fell silent, staring at Adora incredulously.

“She isn’t evil,” Adora continued, “and we’re similar in a lot of ways. Don’t forget that I used to work for the Horde too. So it’s _possible _that Catra is telling the truth. I think we should all go together, and bring our weapons, and be prepared for anything, but I still think we should . . . see what she wants.”

“I agree with Adora,” said Perfuma, standing up and opening her hands benevolently. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

“Are you out of your minds?” Glimmer burst out. “What about _she had me tortured _are you not understanding?”

“To be fair,” said Bow thoughtfully, “it was Shadow Weaver who was torturing you.”

“You too?” Glimmer threw her hands up in frustration. “If we go to this _meeting, _someone is going to get hurt again. Adora, I know you’ve never been able to let go of your feelings for Catra —“

“What?” Adora stood up abruptly. “I don’t —“

“—but you can’t let that get in the way of doing your job as She-Ra. This is a waste of time. I’m going to bed.”

“Glimmer, stop.” Bow stood up too now, holding out his arm to halt Glimmer as she turned toward the door. “I agree with you, this is super suspicious. But we were _just talking _about how much we need a new strategy. If Catra is telling the truth, then she could give us _so _much inside information about the Horde’s plans. She could turn the tide of this war.”

Glimmer hesitated. She looked around the table. “Does _everyone else _think we should go to this meeting?”

“I do!” said Perfuma with a happy smile. “It would be so much fun to have a new team member!”

“This is a stupid plan,” said Mermista, “but, like, why not.”

“Heck yeah!” Frosta made a fist, letting trails of ice curl around her fingers. “If she’s lying, I can just pummel her anyway.”

Glimmer looked at Adora. Adora bit her lip.

She really hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

“I think we should see what she wants,” she repeated, looking back at Glimmer steadily.

Glimmer held the eye contact for a moment longer, then looked away and sighed, shaking her head. “Whatever. I give up. We’ll all go together, then. Just . . . don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And with that, Glimmer vanished in a cloud of sparkles.

There was an awkward silence, in which Adora looked down at the note again. It scared her how good it felt just to run her fingers over Catra’s words, to see her name — _their _names — written out again. _Adora. Catra. _She wasn’t tired at all anymore, but for some reason, she wanted to be alone, to stare at the paper. To reread it. To think.

“I’m going to bed,” said Adora, making up her mind. “See you guys tomorrow.” She glanced one last time at the damaged robot, then turned and headed for the door.

“Hey, Adora?”

Adora looked back at the sound of Bow’s voice. He was turned around in his chair, his eyes wide with concern. 

“Don’t get your hopes up too much, okay?”

Adora smiled and nodded tightly. 

“I’m not hoping for anything. Goodnight, Bow.”

Bow smiled then, and nodded back. “Okay. Goodnight, Adora.”

Adora left the dining room, her heart pounding in her chest, the paper clutched in her hands, careful not to wrinkle or tear it. And as she let the door fall shut behind her, it occurred to her that she was just as much of a liar as Catra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again for reading! since this is my first story i wasn't really expecting it to get noticed, so the support i have received has meant so much to me. I'll see you again next Tuesday!  
also, I bought hayley kiyoko tickets today and i'm SO PUMPED!!!


	3. first meeting

Exactly as promised, Catra arrived at the field at the edge of the Whispering Woods right as the sun was setting. She was alone. She was unarmed. She had nothing with her but the Horde uniform she was wearing and, over it, a cloak with the iPhone 10 concealed in an inner pocket. Even her prized Force Captain pin had been left behind. 

She had intended to slip away unnoticed, without ceremony and certainly without any emotional display, but to her great dismay, Scorpia intercepted her — exactly what she had been trying to avoid.

“Are you leaving so soon?” Scorpia had said, hurrying towards her as Catra lingered impatiently at the gates. She was already, Catra was annoyed to see, a bit tearful. “I thought you might, so I . . .” 

“Waited here for me,” said Catra dryly. “How kind of you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, boss,” said Scorpia, failing to pick up on Catra’s sarcasm. “I’ve been assigned to the Everlight mission, so I wanted to tell you that I’ll personally make sure it goesaccording to your — your brilliant plan. I just . . .”

Scorpia looked at her desperately for a moment, her eyes scanning as if trying to memorize every detail of Catra’s face.

And then, to Catra’s even deeper dismay and before she could dodge out of reach, Scorpia wrapped her bulky arms around Catra’s slender body and pulled her into a hug.

“I’m just gonna miss you so much,” said Scorpia, choking on the words. “Are you — are you sure you have everything? Don’t you want a hat? It’s getting a little chilly —“

“Scorpia,” said Catra, squirming a bit, “aren’t you supposed to be on patrol? I’m in a hurry here . . .”

“But you’re _leaving, _Catra.” The words came out as a sob. “I’m so worried about you.”

She pulled back a little, keeping her hands on Catra’s shoulders, and Catra almost jerked away, but something stopped her. There were real tears running down Scorpia’s cheeks.

Adora had never looked at her like that, had she?

“It’s not like I’m dying, Scorpia,” said Catra gruffly, looking away first — uncomfortable to look for too long. “I’ll be back when the mission is over. Which _won’t _take long. Those princesses are all pansies; they aren’t going to do anything to me.”

“I — I know.” Scorpia sniffed loudly. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Yeah, alright.” Catra slid out from under Scorpia’s grasp and hurried through the gate into the craggy plains that lay beyond, aware of the tear-filled eyes watching her until the Fright Zone vanished beyond the slope of the first hill.

There was quite a walk to the Whispering Woods.

Thanks to Scorpia’s interference, Catra was nervous that she would be late to the meeting, but when she arrived at the agreed upon spot — a patch of clearing in between the plains and the Whispering Woods — there was no one to be found. Nothing but tall grass, rustling ominously in the breeze. 

Catra wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, looking up into the fading blue of the sky. Behind a few wisps of cloud, four moons of variable sizes twinkled back at her; the closest was almost full, filling the clearing with palish light. Her shadow stretched long and thin on the ground before her, rippling and distorted against the surface of the grass.

She shivered again. It _was _a little cold, even with the cloak. She wished the princesses would hurry up. They were probably watching her, gauging whether she had any weapons. Catra scanned the tree line, offering her unseen watchers a casual smirk. “You should come out and get it over with,” she called, lifting up her hands. “I honored my end of the bargain.” 

No response. 

Feeling a bit foolish, Catra lowered her arms to her sides and began to pace, muttering sourly to herself. For the first time, it occurred to her that the princesses weren’t coming.

Was that possible? Had her message failed to reach them? Or . . . had they actually been wise enough not to listen to her? Catra had to admit the idea was irritating to her — that they _hadn’t _fallen all over themselves at her offer of support, that Adora in particular hadn’t . . .

Hadn’t what? Wanted to see her? Of course Adora didn’t want to see her. They were enemies. Unnegotiably enemies. She-Ra versus the Horde. 

And _she _didn’t want to see _Adora. _

But still . . .

The memory of her most recent dream bubbled unwanted to the surface of Catra’s mind. Adora had said her name — _Catra _— the word low and soft and intoxicating on her tongue, when it wasn’t a shout or a warning or a curse. Catra closed her eyes briefly, reimagining, embellishing. Adora had propped a hand on the wall, had pressed her body against Catra’s. The weight had been heavy and urgent, and Adora’s skin had been under her hands, for once Catra’s to touch, and her lips — 

No. _No. _Catra groaned, pressing her palms to her face to shut out the fantasies. She _didn’t_ want that. It was some kind of — of brainwashing. Adora had never done anything but hurt her. Ever since they were children, it had been Adora who cast Catra thoughtlessly into shadows, Adora who stole Shadow Weaver’s affections, and now, it was _Adora _who had betrayed her — betrayed their plans, joined the enemy, and destroyed_ everything._

And besides, Hordak’s orders were clear. The next chance she got to hand Adora over to the Horde, she wouldn’t so much as hesitate.

At that moment, there was a loud rustling in the brush at the edge of the woods. A jolt of adrenaline shooting through her, Catra hastily placed a hand on her hip and tucked one ankle behind the other in a pose of cocky indifference.

Just in time, as from the bushes, in a barrage of noise and color and movement, burst seven princesses, Adora’s crop top boy friend, and a unicorn.

She saw Adora right away. Adora in her new form, towering above the others, blonde locks billowing out behind her . . . 

But still, underneath it all, the girl she had grown up with all her life.

Their eyes locked. Catra smiled.

“Hey, Adora,” she said sweetly.

Adora took a step forward, clutching her pathetic magical sword as if she were willing to use it. “Show me your hands,” she demanded. Around them, the princess entourage was fanning out, surrounding Catra and cutting off any means of escape. Catra observed them from the corners of her eyes, them and their arsenal of amusingly quirky weapons — a net, a vine, an ice cube, a magical glitter bomb? Come on.

Returning her gaze to Adora, she lifted her hands lazily. “I did exactly as I said I would, _Princess.”_

Adora’s eyes narrowed, but she lowered her sword. 

“Alright, Catra,” said Adora, all but spitting out the name. Ah, that was more like it. “None of us trust you or your sappy story, but —“

“I can see that,” said Catra, gesturing around at the multitude of weapons trained at her chest.

Adora hesitated for a moment, then waved at the others to stand down. They obeyed, falling into positions of loose readiness, all of them studying Catra with various levels of interest, fear, and suspicion. The princess with the glitter bombs — the one, Catra realized, who had escaped from Shadow Weaver’s clutches after Catra painstakingly delivered her there — had a look of particular hatred on her face. 

Interesting.

“As I was saying,” Adora went on, tapping the blunt end of her sword against her leg, “we don’t trust you, but because _we’re _good people, we’re willing to listen to whatever it is you have to say.”

Something about the way Adora’s melodramatic costume was really suiting her equally melodramatic personality, and something about the way Adora had gotten into costume just to come _listen to whatever she had to say, _was striking Catra as incredibly ridiculous, and she gave a snort of laughter, loud and out of place in the tension-wrought clearing. Good — she couldn’t stand this kind of thing, all quiet and veiled threats. “Of course, you’re the _good people,” _Catra said in her loudest drawl. “Thank you _so _much for this opportunity to speak to you.” 

“We’re wasting our time, Adora,” said the glitter princess abruptly. “I don’t want to stand here and listen to her mess with us. Let’s _go.”_

“Glimmer,” said the crop top boy quietly — though his hand, Catra noticed, had drifted to the bow hanging at his side. “Just let her talk.”

The princess let out a strangled noise of frustration, but she fell silent, glowering at Catra once again. Catra offered her a pitying smile as she made a few mental notes. This princess — Glimmer, it was — hated her, but she held the boy’s opinion in enough esteem to listen to him. 

How easily exploitable, the rebels and their frivolous relationships were.

“So go ahead,” said Adora then, crossing her arms. “Why did you really make us come here?”

Here it was. The important part. If she said the wrong thing, made one wrong step, the princesses would turn their backs on her. She had to show sincerity, but not be so repentant that Adora would call her bluff. It was a delicate game indeed that Hordak had designed for her.

But this was her specialty, wasn’t it?

Catra took a deep breath. 

“I didn’t _make _you come here. I sent you a message and hoped that you would. If you hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have blamed you, obviously. But the truth is . . .”

Adora’s expression was carefully neutral, but her eyebrows went up — just a bit of interest. She was always so easy to read. To Catra’s left, the plant princess in the long pink dress gave a vigorous nod of encouragement.

“The truth is,” said Catra after a tactful pause, “that there was nothing left for me in the Horde. I was so tired of being exploited.” In a show of vulnerability, she looked at the ground, scuffing her toe against the dirt. “I did my research, and I learned about what the Horde is really doing. What they really are. I couldn’t be a part of that anymore.”

Everything she was saying was vague and basically stolen from the conversations she had had with Adora since leaving — conversations in which they had been fighting, yes, conversations which ran on loop in her head as she laid awake at night, _maybe,_ but nothing she _believed_ in. And yet, Catra could sense she already had the princesses under her thrall. Around her, hands holding weapons were going limp and surprised glances were being exchanged. Still looking at the ground, Catra smirked, unable to stop herself. It was amazing, how naive these people were. 

But when she looked up, her face was once again arranged into her best approximation of earnest honesty. Staking her success on a dramatic conclusion, she delivered her final lines looking straight at Adora:

“Besides. I really missed you.”

The rustling and whispers in the clearing died away. Adora opened her mouth, and then closed it again. Something had flashed across her face at the words, which still hung in the air between them — _I really missed you. _In spite of herself, at that moment, Catra longed to know what Adora was thinking. Had she missed Catra, too? Was she . . . happy to see her?

“Okay,” said Adora finally, glancing around the circle. “What does everyone else think?”

“I thought that was _beautiful,” _said the plant princess, who looked to be on the verge of tears. Breaking formation, she skipped forth to Catra, seized her hand, and shook it wildly. “My name is Perfuma,” she said as Catra concentrated on not recoiling. Around her wrist, a bracelet of wildflowers unfurled from thin air. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

“I like her, too,” said a kind-faced princess with thick purple hair, looping her arm through the arm of the net princess, who nodded her own agreement. “I can see that she cares for you a lot, Adora.”

The child princess with the ice cubes — _Frosta_, Catra remembered from Princess Prom — shrugged, allowing her ice to melt harmlessly around her fists. “I dunno. She seems like fun. I was kinda hoping I could pummel her, though . . .”

“Yeah.” Beside her, the trident princess with the yellow gauntlets shrugged indifferently. “I’m down with whatever.”

To Catra’s shock, the unicorn, whom she had nearly forgotten about, cleared its throat in an alarmingly humanlike manner and said —

— Catra wasn’t sure what the unicorn said. She was too busy trying to process the fact that it was talking.

“Alright, then.” Adora’s voice drew her attention back to the front, where Adora’s two friends had moved in close around her, as if for protection, or comfort. “Bow? Glimmer? What do you think?”

“I think we should let her stay,” said Bow the crop top boy slowly, his eyes trained on Catra as he spoke. “I still don’t totally trust her, but if we keep our eyes on her, it’s worth the risk.”

Adora nodded. She turned to Glimmer, whose expression had, over the course of the discussion, shifted from surprise to outrage to stormy resignation.

“If you really think it’s a bad idea,” Adora said gently, taking Glimmer’s hands in her own, “then we’ll say no. I trust your judgement, Glimmer.”

Catra prickled a bit at this. Why was Adora trusting this sparkly princess over _her, _her oldest and closest friend? How long had she known these people, anyway? A month? Two?

But the jealous thoughts subsided when Glimmer looked up at her. It was a look that pinned her down, that made her tense as if in preparation for an attack.

If she was going to have any problems on this mission, she knew where they would be coming from.

“It’s fine,” said Glimmer shortly, still glaring through Catra. “If she turns traitor, then we can handle it.”

Catra exhaled slightly, smiling to herself. She had done it, then. Her overly sentimental speech had _worked . . ._

With Glimmer’s final word of agreement, there was a flash of golden light — Catra shielded her eyes with a hand — and then, so suddenly that it took her off guard, there was Adora, standing before her.

Real Adora, not fake, inflated, princessified Adora. Previously, there had been such an easy separation between the girl in front of her and the girl in her head, but now . . . Catra took in the familiar ponytail, the red jacket, the deeper tint to Adora’s blue eyes, and she risked a few steps toward her, wanting to see the details more closely. Adora stiffened a bit, but made no move to hold Catra at bay.

It was really Adora — the Adora she had thought about and dreamed about, the subject of all her hatred and her longing, and for once, they weren’t fighting, weren’t even arguing. They were simply standing, face to face.

Once, not so long ago, they had always been close by one another. It had been such an easy thing that Catra had taken it for granted, but now, after everything that had happened between them . . . proximity could be dangerous, could endanger the mission.

No . . . no, it couldn’t. A few steps were harmless. Catra was a professional soldier, and dreams were stupid and meant nothing. 

There wouldn’t be any problems if they never touched.

“Okay then, Catra,” said Adora, her voice low and dangerous. “You can stay. But we’re going to have our eyes on you, just like Bow said. And if you take one step out of line —“

“It’s back to the Fright Zone for me,” Catra finished. “Don’t worry. I know.”

There was another silence. Another opportunity, perhaps, for someone to change their mind.

And then remarkably, Adora’s face broke into a smile. It was a smile filled with warning and distrust, yes, but a smile nevertheless. With that smile still on her face she said, opening out her arms to the princesses clustering in around them:

“Welcome to the team.”

Just like that, Catra infiltrated the ranks of the Rebellion. 

And as hands reached out to shake hers, to make introductions, to congratulate her on her change of heart, she cast a smile of her own at Adora, her eyes narrowed in satisfaction. So smoothly, so easily, the plan was underway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooooo chapter 3 done! i've been having so much fun i low key can't believe people are reading this lmao  
  
scorpio season starts tomorrow and you know what that means. catra's power (and mine also) will only grow...  
  
see you next tuesday ;) i can't wait for the drama to kick in man


	4. in the "dungeon"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I SKIPPED A WEEK! I got really busy meeting other deadlines and stuff. We should be back on track now so please enjoy and thanks for your patience :)

“Bow, what is the status of your, ah . . .”

Queen Angella peered down at her notes. In the center of the high-ceilinged chamber, the members of the Princess Alliance were arranged around their meeting table. On the table sprawled a three-dimensional map of their troops and the Horde soldiers and bots. Aesthetic color-coding couldn’t disguise the more or less dire situation in which they seemed to be caught.

“. . . The robot kill switch?” Bow sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t think we have the technology to pull it off. Maybe if we had Entrapta, but as it is . . .”

He trailed off, staring at the table in front of him. Glimmer offered him a slightly pained smile, mouthing _We’ll figure something out._

“I see.” Angella pursed her lips, turning her attention to Spinnerella and Netossa on the far side of the table. “And what is the report from the morning’s patrol?”

Netossa and Spinnerella exchanged glances. “Well,” Spinnerella began, “it’s . . . No one has been injured, so . . .”

“The robots are getting stronger and there’s more of them every day,” said Netossa abruptly. “If Bow can’t figure out a solution, we’re gonna have to allocate more troops to the Whispering Woods.”

“Hmmm.” Angella filled in a few boxes on her spreadsheet. Her shoulders were hunched with tension and there were shadows under her eyes, a gauntness mirrored by the majority of the meeting’s attendees. “That’s . . . troubling to hear, indeed. If anyone has thought of a new plan of attack for us, I’m certainly open to it. But first . . .”

She flipped to the next page, then looked up at Adora, her pen still poised above the paper. “Adora, what progress has been made in your She-Ra training?”

Adora didn’t answer. She had spent the meeting staring at the wall above Mermista’s head, tapping her heel against the floor absently, only vaguely attending to the discussion around her. All she could think about was when she would be free to leave, though she had little in the way of specific places to be. 

It was the second day since Catra had been brought to Bright Moon, and to Adora’s knowledge, she had spent the entire time in the dungeons.

It wasn’t that the dungeons in Bright Moon were uncomfortable; actually, prisoners were provided beds with cushions, three hot meals per day, and even, if requested, light reading material. It wasn’t that Adora pitied Catra or thought the treatment unjust; it made perfect sense to keep her under supervision until she proved her worth.

And yet . . .

The very fact of Catra’s presence in Bright Moon felt _wrong _to Adora, regardless of how many guards were assigned to her. She had worked so hard to create a world separate from her past, from the Fright Zone and the Horde and . . . from Catra, as well. So for Catra to interrupt her new world with claims of reform . . . Something was off about it.

They were playing a game, Adora felt sure, and Catra was just a pawn to achieve their ends.

“Adora? Your training?”

Adora jumped. “My — sorry, could you repeat the question?”

Angella sighed, laying down her pen. “You are thinking of the recently detained Horde soldier, aren’t you?”

“Not a Horde soldier,” Perfuma interjected. “Our _new friend.”_

“Right,” said Glimmer dryly, “our new friend that we’re keeping in the dungeon.”

“No,” said Adora before Glimmer could launch into another rant, “I wasn’t . . .”

Bow shot her a dubious glance, and Glimmer rolled her eyes, slumping back in her chair.“Well . . . yeah, I was thinking of her.” Adora looked up at Angella’s frowning face and made a snap decision. “I’m just wondering what good she’s doing in the dungeons,” she said. “I think we need to question her. The recent changes in Horde activity — the stronger bots, the more frequent raids — it could be connected to, you know, whatever she’s plotting.”

“Plotting?” said Angella sharply. “I only approved this detainment upon receiving word that she seemed to present no threat. Was my information false?”

“No, she wasn’t threatening. Just . . . Catra is . . .” Adora was fumbling, feeling her cheeks heat up under the eyes of Angella and the others. “She’s always plotting something, and I think we need to take that possibility seriously,” she finished, a bit clumsily. 

Angella raised an eyebrow. “You seem overly concerned, Adora,” she said, jotting down, Adora was dismayed to see, a few notes on her paper. “I suggest you redirect your energies toward your training. The palace guard will interrogate the girl and determine her fitness for release in due time. Her potential integration into the rebel forces should not be among your concerns.”

Integrate Catra into the rebel forces! Adora almost laughed at the image, but caught herself in time to smile and offer Angella a respectful nod. 

Even if everyone else seemed to have forgotten about Catra, _she _hadn’t. But she could handle it on her own. In her lap, Adora tightened her fists, aware out of the corner of her eye that Glimmer was watching her. 

The meeting dragged on for a while longer. After nearly an hour of flimsy strategies being proposed and just as quickly dismantled, Angella dismissed them until the following day, ordering everyone to spend their own time developing sounder ideas to present to the group._ “We need something new,” _she had said tiredly as they gathered their notes, echoing the conversation at dinner a few nights before. _“At this rate, the war will never be over.”_

After the meeting, Adora slipped away from Glimmer and Bow and headed straight for the dungeons — before she could change her mind, before anyone could stop her. She had to talk to Catra alone, and now was as good a time as ever. No one else was going to take the threat posed by Catra seriously. 

That was why she was going to talk to her. The only reason.

The truth, Adora reflected as she descended the spiral staircase, was that talking to Catra the night before last had been more exhausting than she wanted to admit. It had taken all of her concentration to maintain an air of objectivity through everything that had happened _(“Besides. I really missed you . . .”) _and she only hoped it had been enough to fool Catra — not to mention Glimmer and the others. 

There was way, way too much to worry about even _without _silly attachments from her past. So, she would treat Catra the same as she would any other Horde prisoner — with suspicion, caution, and objectivity. 

Adora steadied herself, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door to the dungeon.

The two guards patrolling on the other side stepped aside for her and bowed in unison. “Hi,” said Adora, still a bit awkward with the formalities. “Which cell is holding the prisoner called Catra?”

The guards straightened up, and the man to her left pointed down the hallway. “The fifth cell to the right, Princess.”

“Thanks. Has she posed any issues?”

He shook his head. “None at all. More compliant than most. Spends most of her time sleeping.”

Hmm. Strange behavior from Catra. Adora thanked the guards again and, heart already beating faster despite her best efforts to convince herself of her own impartiality, she walked toward the cell. 

Five, four, three, two . . . one. Adora stopped.

The prisoners were held behind two rows of bars, the first creating a narrow holding chamber for visitors between the cell and the hallway. After fumbling for a moment to undo the latch with her trembling hands, Adora let herself into the chamber, and let the door swing shut quietly behind her.

For a moment she just stood there, staring down through the bars at Catra.

She actually was asleep. 

Catra had taken three pastel green cushions off the bed and arranged them on the floor like a nest, where she was curled up, her head tucked under an arm, her chest rising and falling gently. Adora opened her mouth to awaken her, but something made her pause. She hadn’t seen Catra look so peaceful since before she left the Fright Zone . . . actually, she hadn’t seen Catra be anything less than obnoxiously arrogant, if not actively hostile, since before she left the Fright Zone. There was no cocky smirk on her lips, no tension in her arms, no hatred flashing through her eyes . . . It was the Catra she remembered from her childhood, the Catra she glorified in her memories. In that moment, something in Adora’s chest ached with a sadness almost physical, and if not for the bars between them, she would have reached out to smooth Catra’s hair back, to touch her face, to lay down beside her as once she might have . . .

And then, Catra opened her eyes. She blinked a few times, and then looked to the side, her lips curling into a grin at the sight of Adora watching her, as unsurprised as if the visit had been prearranged.

“Hey, Adora,” she said, flicking her tail against the floor.

Adora groaned. Of _course _Catra would wake up, would snatch the upper hand from her like that. “Hello, Catra,” she said, crossing her arms rigidly. “Sleep well?”

“Sure,” said Catra, rolling over onto her back, arms stretched above her head. “You ought to know. How long have you been watching me?”

“I — I wasn’t watching you,” said Adora. _She _was the one in control here. She wasn’t the one behind bars. Catra couldn’t be allowed to knock her off balance. “I just came to . . .”

“Visit me? I’m flattered, Adora. You always were so thoughtful.”

“Not to visit,” said Adora firmly. “I’m here because I still don’t understand what _you’re _doing here, and what you want from us. And I’m not going to leave until you tell me.”

Catra sat up luxuriously, stretching her arms across her chest. “I already told you everything,” she said with a yawn. “I realized the Horde is evil and I want to join the Princess Alliance. That’s all there is to it.”

“But — why? What made you change your mind?” 

Catra dropped her arms and fixed Adora with a bored stare. “I got fed up with Hordak yelling at me, I guess. _Nobody,_” she said a bit pointedly, “appreciated my talents there, did they?”

“Catra.” Adora took a warning step forward. “If you’re not going to be honest with me, then we can’t trust you enough to let you out of this cell.”

“That’s okay,” said Catra, the familiar smirk forming on her lips. “I gotta say, it’s pretty nice in here. Is this how you treat all your prisoners, or am I just special?” She unwound slowly to her feet, swiveled her hips a few times as if to work out the stiffness, and then picked up one of the green pillows from the ground, tossing it up and down a few times. “I mean, come on. Look at this thing. I already have a cushier life than I did at the Horde.”

_Why _was she acting like this? Why was she acting like she had already gotten everything she wanted, even though she was locked away in the dungeons? “Catra,” Adora growled, pulling from her last reserves of patience, “put the pillow down and look at me.”

Catra tossed the pillow up one more time, watched it hit the ceiling, then let it fall lightly into her hands. “I don’t know what else to say to you,” she said, giving an infuriatingly careless shrug. “I changed. Isn’t that what happened to you, too?”

“But when we met in Thaymore,” said Adora, struggling to understand, “I showed you how the Horde was targeting a civilian town and told you that we had been lied to all our lives and . . . you didn’t care. So if you didn’t care then, then why . . .”

“I didn’t _not care,_” said Catra, an edge of hardness creeping into her tone, “I just had some bigger things to be worrying about. Besides, people get hurt in every war. If you had stayed, we could have _won _the war, and then you could have been the one to decide who does and doesn’t get hurt.” She smiled cruelly, gesturing around at the soft lighting, the bookshelf, the neatly made bed. “But honestly, I can see why you wanted to leave. This _is _better than what you had in the Horde, isn’t it?”

“You’re making it sound like you still wish we were there,” Adora pressed, leaning subconsciously closer still to the bars between them. Catra went still, her ears flattening a bit. “You can’t say you’ve ‘changed’ and then act the same as always, Catra. I can’t believe that —“

Catra looked up sharply. “I _am _the same,” she said, claws tightening imperceptibly around the pillow. “If you thought I was evil before, then I’m still evil now, okay?” Adora flinched, surprised at the way Catra’s voice had risen so quickly in anger. “How come _you _can have some kind of life-changing epiphany, but when _I _do it, you won’t believe me?”

. . . Had this been what she was thinking all along? “Catra . . .” Adora faltered, unsure as to what she wanted to hear. Where had this come from? Was she actually telling the truth? 

Was it Adora who was being unfairly judgmental?

But before she could speak, Catra began to laugh, the sound dark and bitter, and went back to tossing her pillow up and down. “Don’t worry about it, Adora. I already know what you think.” She looked almost pleased with herself, as if Adora had failed a test Catra knew she would fail.

. . . No, there was definitely something strange going on. Besides, even if she _was _telling the truth, her attitude was still getting on Adora’s last nerve. “Catra, come on,” she said, wishing fervently she could slice the ugly green pillow in half with her She-Ra sword. “You’ve done terrible things to me and my friends. You have to understand why —” —toss, catch— “—when you tease me, provoke me —” —toss, catch— “—I can’t just trust —”

“Whatever.” Catra caught the pillow, rolled her eyes, and began to turned away. “You woke me up for nothing, so I’m going back to sleep.” She bent down to reassemble the pillow nest on the floor. Just like that, the window of truthfulness Adora had glimpsed was sliding shut. 

And yet she _knew _Catra had information they needed. She _knew _not everything that had been said in the clearing had been lies. But she still didn’t understand, and they still hadn’t said anything meaningful to one another —

Adora’s muscles moved without her thinking.

She reached through the bars and grabbed hold of Catra’s wrist, just before it was pulled out of reach.

Oh, no. Immediately, a wave of heat washed over her, and she felt the intrinsic wrongness of her move. She had crossed a barrier that she shouldn’t have. Every instinct told her to pull back — but she couldn’t, or didn’t want to — and already, Catra was turning toward her. 

Her face was blank, unreadable.

She couldn’t move as Catra took Adora’s hand in both of hers, studying her fingers with an expression of vague interest.

“Catra,” said Adora, her throat dry, staring at their hands intertwined, “Listen — I know that you aren’t evil. I never thought you were. I just . . .”

They looked at each other then, through the bars. Recklessly, Adora wondered what would happen if the bars weren’t there to hold them apart, because there was a look on Catra’s face she had never seen before, or never recognized. 

Something like — a hunger.

And then she smiled in a way that didn’t reach her eyes, and she said, her voice low and emphatic:

“Get out of my cell before I call the guards.” 

Adora’s eyes widened, and she snatched her hand back. “If you want to join us,” she seethed, “maybe you should do something _helpful _besides sitting here moping and snapping at the only person who’s trying to listen to you!”

Catra lifted a hand in farewell as she arranged herself on the cushions again, head on her arms, tail flicking lazily. “I _know_ you have information about the Horde,” said Adora, thinking fast, remembering back to the meeting earlier that day. “If you told me something useful, then maybe we could let you out.”

Catra’s back was to Adora, and if she was listening — if she was still awake at all — she gave no indication of it.

Adora bit back a groan of frustration and stood there, her cheeks hot with anger. Why was Catra so impossible to deal with? Why would she beg her way into Bright Moon just to act like this? Why couldn’t they just talk to one another like normal people?

Why did she care so much?

Adora blinked, surprised by her own thoughts. Why _did _she care so much? This . . . shouldn’t be her responsibility. If it were any other prisoner, she would leave it up to the guards to handle their insolence, to analyze their reform or lack thereof. But here she was, sneaking away to Catra’s cell, desperately wanting Catra to say something, _anything, _that proved she was telling the truth, that proved she had really changed. 

It was dangerous, how much she wanted it.

She had to get out of here. If Catra’s evil scheme was just to distract her from her She-Ra training and waste her time, she was succeeding brilliantly. Adora turned sharply and let herself out of the cell.

In spite of herself, until the stairwell door swung shut behind her, she was hoping that Catra would call for her to come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> season 4 ... is out today ... i don't know what to do with myself ...  
actually, I'm not going to watch it until Friday because I have friends driving in from out of town for a watch party, SO don't comment spoilers until Friday! i'm praying for my girl catra to regain a few scraps of mental stability! if we get any catradora i will have a heart attack and die on the spot so if i don't update next week that's what happened  
also throwback to when queen angella was alive am i right lmao


	5. help wanted

Ordinarily, there was a force in her chest beating just as dependably as her heart.

She had never been able to explain it to anyone before, try as she might from time to time after she became aware that not everyone felt it. It was best identified by the feeling of its absence — a weakness where once there was strength, a flatness that crept into her veins andweighed down her arms and clouded up her head. 

It was a fog of lethargy through which she had to wade. It took the sparkle and color out of everything around her.

Glimmer was completely out of magic.

“Oh, God,” she moaned — the first coherent thought she had formed in the past few minutes — “Mom is going to kill me.” 

She was stumbling up the steps of Bright Moon, her right arm draped around Bow’s shoulder, her left around Adora’s. The others had gone ahead of them to nurse their own wounds (and, she thought a bit ruefully, to slip away before the inevitable lecture from Angella).

“It wasn’t your fault, Glimmer,” said Bow soothingly, “there was nothing we could have done against those bots.”

Glimmer ground her teeth together, the world tilting as Bow and Adora pulled her onto the first landing. The castle’s marble, its fluorescence impressive on a normal day, was giving her a headache, all swirling patterns and glaring reflections closing in on her. She _really _needed to recharge. “It _is_ my fault, though,” she managed to say, her hands slipping from around their shoulders and falling to her thighs. “I was the one who suggested we go out today. I was the one who insisted we wouldn’t need backup. Those bots destroyed a huge part of the woods before we could stop them.”

She took a deep breath, shutting her eyes against the still roiling marble. Even through the fatigue, dread was rising in her stomach, a sick feeling from which she could never teleport away. Her mom was going to kill her. Revoke her title of commander. The mental image of flaming brush, black smoke in the air, the glint of She-Ra’s sword and flashes of laser light cutting through it all, her screams of warning drowned out by ripping of a massive tree’s roots . . .

“Glimmer.” Bow’s hand was on her back, warm and steadying. She exhaled slowly, concentrating on his presence beside her. “It’s okay. We’ll talk to your mom together. She’ll understand.”

Glimmer opened her eyes and blinked a few times to clear her vision. Around her on the landing were her two best friends, battered and bruised, but safe, and still rallying around her.

She thought again of the tree falling, its majestic branches crashing to the forest floor, and swallowed hard.

“I’m not upset,” she said, her voice dark. “I’m _angry!”_

With the force of that admission, the world tipped again, and she threw out a hand to support herself against the wall, groaning in frustration. “I’m _so tired _of being this weak!” Her words shouted over the castle wall drew the masked attention of a few guards on the lower level, and she went on shouting, heedless of her audience. “We try _so hard, _and the Horde is still able to beat us with a couple of _robots! _What good is teleportation when I run out of magic this fast? What good is a Princess Alliance that can’t even protect a forest?”

The guards were rather awkwardly turning away from her, and Bow stepped in again, his eyes wide with concern. “Glimmer, we’re going to figure it out!”

“No!” She wrenched away from him, tears of rage blurring her already shaky vision even further. “My mom isn’t going to give me any more second chances. She doesn’t believe in me! And now that I’ve disobeyed orders to —“

There was a sudden feeling of the floor dropping out from under her, a sickening lurch, and then she was in Adora’s arms, her friend having leapt to catch her just before she hit the ground. “That’s it,” she heard Adora say through her ringing ears. “We’re taking you to recharge now.”

Later, Glimmer wouldn’t be able to remember the trip to her charging bed. She could only remember opening her eyes and seeing the familiar haze of stars, the surface cool and comforting beneath her. Now that the hole in her chest was filling up with magic again, the aches of her physical body were sharpening, and she groaned, raising an arm to block out the world for a few more moments.

“Are you okay?”

She squinted, Bow’s face coming into focus above her. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice still a bit feeble. Maybe expending her final strength to scream over the rooftops had not been the best idea. “Are you guys?”

Bow glanced to the side momentarily, then nodded, offering a weak smile of encouragement. “Nothing serious!”

“Great. Let’s get out of here, then.” Steeling herself for the pain she knew would come, Glimmer gathered her hands beneath her and began to sit up. 

“Don’t do that.” Adora appeared at her other side now, blocking her from swinging her legs over the bed. “You’re not recharged all the way yet.”

“I’m fine!” Glimmer insisted, casting an anxious look at the steps up to their platform. “My mom is going to find us soon!”

“Glimmer . . .”

There was a tightness in Adora’s voice that made Glimmer look back to her, her personal worries momentarily forgotten. Come to think of it, Adora hadn’t been saying much at all since the battle ended. Or even before that. She had been withdrawn that morning at breakfast, and last night when Glimmer ran into her . . . and at the meeting, she had been so blatantly preoccupied . . . 

Oh. Glimmer had been too occupied by her excitement for the mission to put together how Adora had disappeared after the meeting, how she had been walking from the direction of the dungeons when Glimmer found her looking pale and on edge, but now it clicked, and Glimmer laid back down heavily.

“You went to see her, didn’t you?”

Adora let out a breath as if she had been holding it. “Yes. Yes. I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you — I’ve been _dying_ to tell you. You won’t believe the things she said! Or — _didn’t _say, I guess.”

“What?” Bow looked flabbergasted. “You went to talk to Catra? Alone?”

“I had to talk to her!” Adora threw up her hands, pacing away from Glimmer’s charging bed. “It’s just too perfect. The Horde is upping their offensive at the same time Catra shows up claiming to have _changed? _She hasn’t changed. She’s exactly the same as always.”

“Which is?” asked Glimmer, tucking her hands behind her head.

“You know! She mocked me. Teased me. Refused to tell me anything.”

“And what did you do?” Glimmer prodded.

“Me?” Adora paused in her pacing. “I —“

There was a moment’s pause, punctuated by the _tap, tap, tap _of Glimmer’s nails against the charging bed. Adora was searching for words, a flush creeping into her cheeks.

“I said if she gave us information that proved to be useful,” she said, adjusting her ponytail self-consciously, “we could let her out.”

“Why would you tell her that?” said Bow, who still looked completely alarmed.

“Well, why else do we have her here? We need information! Look at what happened today.” Adora gestured at Glimmer, who was fixing her with a deeply skeptical expression. “If Catra knows something — and _obviously _she does — she could prevent another loss from happening again.”

“I don’t understand.” Bow shook his head, watching Adora pace furiously on the opposite side of the charging bed. “You were the one who wanted us to take her in. And then you became convinced that she’s plotting something. And now you want her to help us?”

“I —“ Adora hesitated, then groaned, rubbing her eyes. “I felt like she could do less damage on the inside than on the outside. That didn’t mean I trusted her. I _know _she’s playing a game! But I think that instead of ignoring her . . . we need to play the game, too. Maybe she’ll let something slip.”

“Do you actually think she has information she would tell us,” said Glimmer as gently as she could manage, “or do you just want to hope she does?”

Adora’s eyes widened — in anger, in surprise, in defensiveness, she wasn’t sure — and she opened her mouth to make a retort . . .

But then her gaze fell on something behind Glimmer, and she closed her mouth just as quickly.

Uh-oh.

Already knowing what she would see, Glimmer turned around, plastered her most upbeat, _I-definitely-didn’t-just-almost-die-after-sneaking-out-to-fight-a-bunch-of-Horde-robots _smile onto her face, and said in her cheeriest voice:

“Hi, Mom!” 

Glimmer had seen this expression on her mother’s face all too many times in her life. Her eyebrows drawn together. Her shoulders tight, her wings unfurled to their maximum intimidating potential. It was an anger that made every nerve in Glimmer’s body tingle with the urge to teleport away, but intellectually, something in her knew she had to face it this time.

A classic lecture from Queen Angella.

“Glimmer,” said the queen delicately, “are you ready to tell me what, exactly, you have done?”

_“Well,”_ said Glimmer innocently, “you know how you were talking at the meeting yesterday about needing a new strategy? I, you know. Took your message to heart!”

“And?” said Angella, unaffected by Glimmer’s weak attempt at a positive spin.

“I, um. You know . . . I don’t think there’s anything we really need to talk about!” Glimmer looked desperately at Adora and Bow, who were avoiding eye contact. “Nothing bad happened, so . . .”

_“Glimmer.”_ The exhausted tone in her mother’s voice put a stop to Glimmer’s excuses, and she fell silent, watching as Angella took a few steps forward and sat on the charging bed beside her. “I understand how much you believe in this cause. And I admire your bravery for it — really, I do. But as commander . . .” She was looking out at the moons now, her face cast in faint shades of pastel. “As commander, you have to report to your higher officers before taking action. And as my _daughter, _you have to tell me what you’re doing so I can keep you safe. So what is it that happened?”

“With all respect, Queen Angella,” said Adora, rescuing Glimmer from responding, “it wasn’t all her fault. Everyone agreed to the plan. If anything, I should be the one who —“

Angella silenced Adora with a raised hand. “No, Adora,” she said, her expression grave. “I want to hear what it is Glimmer has to say.”

She fixed Glimmer with a searching gaze that made her squirm uncomfortably. The anger she could deal with. It was always _this _that was worse — the disappointment, the concern, the breach of trust, the underlying, infuriatingly unconditional love.

“We tried to attack a base of Horde robots. They overwhelmed us before we could get inside.”

“A _base?” _Angella pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply. “Glimmer. This sort of mission would take weeks of preparation. You should have communicated your intentions with me!”

“But nothing bad happened!” Glimmer retorted, defensive in spite of the truth in her mother’s words. “We all got away. I’m recharged now. It’s fine_—“_

“But you _could _have been hurt!” Angella stood up now, blocking out the light of the moons. “I give you license to fight, Glimmer, and to lead, but not to be reckless!”

“We don’t _have _weeks to prepare!” Glimmer snapped. The charge of power in her body surged with her emotions, and she teleported next to Bow and Adora. Angella didn’t even bother turning to face her. “We have to _do _things, Mom. If we just sit around talking, the Horde is going to win!”

“The Horde is _also _going to win if our most important fighters go into a needless battle and get themselves killed!”

Angella’s voice rang out over the chamber, and Glimmer stared at her, unnerved by the emotion in her voice. _Killed? _She worried about her friends, and the Whispering Woods, and her reputation as commander, but . . . her own life? Her own existence?

And if she had gotten herself killed. If the mission — her mission — had failed. That would leave her mother with . . .

“I don’t want you going out on missions anymore, Glimmer,” said Angella quietly.

_“What?”_

“But Queen Angella—“

“Glimmer shouldn’t be the one to —“

_“Until _you can prove to me that you are capable of obeying orders and thinking rationally.” 

There was a moment of stunned silence as Adora, Bow, and Glimmer stared at Angella in disbelief.

Glimmer broke it by teleporting directly in front of Angella. She felt like a panicked child and knew she sounded like one as well, but there was nothing else she could think to do. “Why do you still treat me like I can’t do anything for myself?” she demanded, a bit wildly. Angella looked down at her passively, unmoved by the angry tears that were again pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I got all of us out. I’ll get us all out again. You can’t give me the title of commander and then take it away when I make one mistake!”

Angella considered her words for a moment, and then — and then! — she smiled, a maddeningly benevolent and calm smile.

“Glimmer,” she said, laying a hand on Glimmer’s shoulder placatingly, “I _know _you aren’t a child. That’s exactly why it’s so important to me that you stop acting like one.”

_“Mom!”_ Glimmer ducked away from Angella’s touch and opened her mouth to say more, to say anything to defend herself, but Angella was already turning away, and the words wouldn’t come, because she knew deep down that her mother was right.

And she hated herself for it.

“Please get some rest, Glimmer,” Angella called as she walked down the stairs. “I’ll see you tonight for dinner.” 

With that, the tip of her head, and then the tips of her wings, vanished from view, taking with it Glimmer’s hopes of winning the argument. 

She never won an argument with Angella. Angella was too smart, and collected, and perfect, and _queenly. _Groaning, Glimmer threw herself back onto the charging bed, her emotions roiling inside of her with all the unprocessed magic and threatening to give her a stomach ache. 

“She said I can’t go on any more missions,” she said miserably, the words stifled by her hands.

“Oh, Glimmer,” said Adora, her words, for perhaps the first time since Catra arrived, filled with true empathy and concern. Glimmer felt the bed shift as Adora climbed onto it beside her, and leaned into the touch as her friend wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it sounds. I mean, I got way worse in the Horde! You’re too good of a commander for Queen Angella to punish you for long.”

“Yeah,” said Bow, squeezing himself in on the other side of her. “Don’t beat yourself up, Glimmer. The Rebellion will need you back, and Angella knows that.”

“It’s not that.” Glimmer sighed, lifting her head if only to seem less upset. “It’s that she _still _doesn’t trust me. Sure, I went against protocol to take us on a super dangerous mission, but no one _else_ here will do anything!”

There was a brief pause. Adora and Bow exchanged glances over Glimmer’s head.

“Maybe,” said Adora with a certain pointedness, “there’s a way you could regain her trust without going on a mission at all.”

Oh. That again. Glimmer had almost forgotten.

No. No, she wasn’t going to solicit help from the insolent, deceiving, probably evil Horde soldier. 

_Catra. _She could picture her clearly — the mismatched eyes, the flicking tail, the slinking grin. The soldier who had _abducted _her. Who would have killed Adora at the Battle of Bright Moon, if given a chance. 

To ask her for help . . . To admit that she _needed _her help . . .

It wasn’t a matter of fear. No, not at all. Glimmer had led her squadron into dangerous occupied Horde territory just that morning without a second thought. 

It was a matter of pride, pure and simple. Pride that Adora _clearly _didn’t share, considering her confusing and inexplicable obsession with the prisoner’s redemption or lack thereof.

And yet . . .

The words of Angella echoed in Glimmer’s mind. _I know you aren’t a child. That’s exactly why it’s so important to me that you stop acting like one. _Was her stubbornness — her refusal to obey restrictive orders, her aversion to seeking out help — making her childish? Making her a bad commander? 

If she overcame it here . . . if Catra actually did have useful information to surrender . . .

Glimmer smiled to herself, lost, for a moment, in the pleasant dream of validation.

She turned to face Adora, the smile still on her face. “No,” she said emphatically. “Absolutely not.”

Adora blinked, momentarily taken aback, and then she sighed, looking away. “Fine. I’ll stop asking. You’re . . . probably right about her.”

She stood up, brushing off her hands. “Do you want to go back down to the castle? Maybe we should check on how the others are doing.”

Glimmer nodded, teleporting to her feet. “Okay! Let’s go.”

Adora offered her a smile — affectionate as always, despite a bit of tightness around her eyes — then turned and started down the steps. 

As soon as her back was turned, Glimmer snatched ahold of Bow’s arm.

“What are you doing?” he asked as she yanked him down to her level.

“We’re going to go see _Catra,”_ said Glimmer, her voice low and filled with regained conviction. “We’re going to take her someplace _fun. _And we. Will. Make. Her. Talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i resurface. it is tuesday. i still remember what tuesday means to me; the promises i have made. i extend a humble offering, and i vanish again.


End file.
